


Ten Days Later

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [28]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the events of Falls the Shadow. Ryan and Lester are glad to have their lovers back safe and sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lyle rolled over in bed, enjoying the feel of crisp cotton bedding against his skin. The slight soreness in his arse was a pleasant reminder of the welcome he’d received from his lover the previous night.

Sir James Lester lay sprawled next to him in the double bed in a spare room at the Thornton’s house, still asleep. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. The dark stubble made his face seem even paler by comparison, and he’d lost weight.

For Lyle and his companions it had been no more than five hours from the time the anomaly had closed behind Ryan and the kids, trapping the rest of them in the past to the moment when they’d staggered into the yard behind the house, covered in mud, blood and the ubiquitous dinosaur guts. But for Lester and Ryan ten long agonising days had passed, with little or no hope of a happy ending.

Ten days in which they had received reports of every anomaly in the area closing.

Ten days in which both men had only slept when driven to their beds by total exhaustion and only eaten when a coalition of Ditzy, Claudia and Amanda Thornton had forced them to the table.

By all accounts, Tarnthwaite hadn’t exactly been a barrel of laughs while they’d been gone.

Lyle slid out from under the duvet and padded silently into the en suite. He had a morning hard on, a mouth like the bottom of a parrot’s cage and armpits that smelt like a Greek wrestler’s crotch.

The Special Forces lieutenant grinned. His normally fastidious lover wouldn’t be quite so keen to ignore matters of such pressing personal hygiene in the cold light of day.

The shower was hot and relaxing, the toothpaste and mouth wash were pleasantly minty and inside of ten minutes, Lyle was starting to feel more like a human being.

Lester slept on.

Lyle grabbed a bathrobe from behind the door and headed down to the kitchen.

He found Amanda Thornton busy making coffee, while Kermit sliced bread, one handed, for toast. His other arm was still heavily bandaged.

“Neat trick,” said Lyle, admiringly.

“He’s improved,” smiled Amanda, giving Lyle a peck on the cheek, “but it’s fortunate I’ve got a bread-making machine. It’s taken him a lot of practice so far. How’s James?”

Lyle returned the kiss, and the smile. “Asleep, and I’d like to be there when he wakes up. Can I grab some coffee for both of us?”

Armed with a large pot of freshly brewed coffee and the welcome news that Blade was out of theatre and out of danger, Lyle headed back upstairs.

Lester had turned over in his sleep, and now lay face down on the bed, with a pillow dragged round under his chin and clutched firmly in one arm. He looked younger in sleep, and surprisingly vulnerable.

Lyle poured two mugs of coffee then gently tugged the duvet off Lester’s shoulders exposing a long, slender body to his appreciative gaze. Sir James Lester didn’t spend a great deal of time in the sun, so a faint of tans didn’t extend beyond his hands and wrists, but he was still a sight worth lingering over.

He drank the first mug of coffee whilst doing nothing more than admiring the view. Lester was a skinny sod, but he was stronger and fitter than he looked, and whilst he still whinged like fuck when he got dragged on a caving trip, he actually had little or no trouble keeping up now. Maybe while they were up here Lyle could get him to revisit a few old haunts…

Lester grunted in his sleep and reached out for the non-existent duvet. Lyle ran a hand, still warm from the coffee mug, over the other man’s shoulders and down his back. Lester murmured but didn’t wake up.

The Special Forces lieutenant grinned and drank the second mug, warming both hands, this time. He ran his fingers gently over his lover’s shoulders, massaging lightly, kneading at the knots he found in Lester’s muscles, working gradually lower, until he reached narrow hips and an arse that never failed to get him hard. Now was no exception.

Running his tongue down the hollow of Lester’s back, he tasted the sweat from their exertions the previous night, then he spread the his lover’s arse cheeks and moved lower. A surprised grunt told him that Lester was now awake. Lyle’s tongue lapped at him gently but insistently and his stubble rasped against the sensitive skin of his lover’s inner thighs as he worked his way downwards.

A low moan of pleasure reached his ears. Lyle propped himself up on one elbow and asked, conversationally, “Coffee or more rimming?”

“Can’t I have both?” Lester sounded faintly aggrieved.

Lyle grinned. “Demanding little sod. I’m not your secretary, you know.”

“Lyle, my secretary’s worked for me for ten years, but to my certain knowledge she has never licked my arse, metaphorically or literally. Now pour me some coffee, and go back to what you were doing, there’s a good boy.”

Five minutes later, Lyle reached over and relieved Lester of the coffee mug before it got broken. He deposited it on the bedside table, and grabbed the small bottle of gun oil that they’d been using the previous night.

Lyle’s irritated profanity caused Lester to look round questioningly. “Problem?”

“You could put it like that. What are my chances of getting Kermit to bring up some supplies without him blabbing to the whole unit?”

“Vanishingly small,” admitted Lester. None of the soldiers would pass up the opportunity for a piss take. A moment later, he gave a throaty groan in response to Lyle burrowing a dry finger into his arse. Tongue followed finger, and Lester started to pant, squirming his hips into the bed. “Fetch a towel, Jon. There’s one on the floor somewhere from last night.”

The soldier laughed, breath ghosting across Lester’s arse and raising the small hairs on the back of his legs. The towel was still in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the bed where it had ended up in the early hours of the morning. Using it now seemed pretty pointless. Lyle had already seen some of the stains they’d been responsible for over the last ten hours. He knew he’d end up having to make peace with Mandy later, but for now, pandering to Lester’s sensibilities seemed like the safest course of action.

Lester rolled onto his side, displaying a satisfactorily erect cock. Lyle spread the towel out, taking the opportunity to swipe his tongue up from Lester’s balls to the already leaking head, before he pushed him firmly down.

The lack of gun oil presented a problem.

Saliva made a fairly crappy lube, but he was damned if he was going in search of anything better, not with a cock as hard as his to cause embarrassment if he met anyone in the corridor. No way.

He licked his own finger, and proceeded to loosen Lester up as thoroughly as he knew how. His lover pushed back, still moaning quietly. Lyle’s searching finger found the small, hard nub inside and he was rewarded with a frantic jerk of the other man’s narrow hips.

Lyle nudged Lester’s legs apart and continued the preparation with the single-minded determination that he always applied to the pursuit of pleasure. In less than a minute, he was rewarded with a breathy whine. He liked it when Sir James Lester whined. In Jon Lyle’s experience, it was a very small step from whining to begging, and he liked it even more when Sir James Lester begged.

He drove some more saliva into Lester’s receptive body with his tongue then followed it with two slick fingers. Hips bucked again and the groans were now almost constant. Lyle rubbed harder.

“Fuck me, Jon, for chrissake fuck me… now. Please…”

Lyle laughed and continued stroking.

“Jon, I’m going to come…”

The soldier withdrew his fingers and stared to lick his way around the other man’s arse again, holding Lester open with his thumbs, probing with his tongue. His lover squirmed, muffling small throaty cries in the pillow.

Lyle’s own cock throbbed distractingly. Damn, he was close to coming and he hadn’t even touched himself.

“I meant what I said to Ryan, you know,” Lyle remarked.

Lester groaned, and then words that sounded suspiciously like I love you too got all tangled up in an orgasm that seemed to start, rather surprisingly, as a shiver in the small of his back. Lyle’s fragile control broke. He shifted position with an impressive economy of movement, burying himself deep inside his lover’s straining body, then thrusting himself through his own orgasm, as he nuzzled and bit at Lester’s shoulders and neck. Lester’s body was hot, and tight, his arse spasming around Lyle’s cock.

Lyle’s fears and tension spilled out of him in one long stream of barely coherent words, his hips jerking as each new wave of pleasure hit him harder than the last. He was conscious of hearing I love you and don’t you ever fucking leave me like that again, you inconsiderate bastard and the words sounded sweeter to the soldier’s ears than anything he’d ever heard before. And for once, Lyle failed to deliver anything resembling a flippant remark in return. He settled for breathing, Love you too, into Lester’s ear as he slumped forward, gasping and panting and feeling strangely like a teenager on a first date.

Lester pulled Lyle’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the soldier’s palm.

With after shocks still running through him, Lyle gently withdrew and turned Lester to face him. He’d known what to expect but the sight of tears on the other man’s face still hit him harder than he would have believed possible.

Lyle did a dangerous job. He knew it and Lester knew it. There was always the risk that one day he wouldn’t come back and the worst of it was that right now it could easily be his lover who had the privilege of sending him on that final mission.

He sighed and kissed the tears away. “Not dead yet, sweetie.”

Lester gave the soldier a tired smile. He knew it was time to play the game again, while they both still had some composure left. “Then pour some more bloody coffee and find a dry towel. And eventually, when I’ve fucked you through the mattress, I’ll let you fetch breakfast.”

Lyle licked the tip of Lester’s nose, grinning. “We’re out of gun oil, remember?”

Lester bushed a light kiss across the soldier’s lips. “How could I forget, honeybun? I’ll just have to take a leaf out of your book, won’t I?”

Lyle’s grin deepened.

Sir James Lester had a notoriously sharp tongue, but there were times when Lyle didn’t object to it being used on him. This was one of those times.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan lounged against a tree, rifle held ready just in case in the mine disgorged something unexpected. Although the way things were going, he’d probably just end up hitting Cutter over the head with it, simply in an attempt to stop the guy bitching.

He’d been looking forward to spending a lazy morning in bed with his lover, interrupted by nothing more pressing than the need to eat a bacon butty. Then a thump on the door from Kermit at ten o’clock had brought an end to a particularly entertaining dream, one which had been about to end with him shagging the still sleeping Hart through the mattress.

The news that Cutter was raising merry hell over Lester’s order to seal the adit had come as no surprise. Science over common-sense any bloody day. You could always rely on the professor for that. Ryan also suspected that Cutter was still motivated by concern for his wife - ex-wife? – and didn’t want to take the risk of stranding her in the past, if she’d disappeared that way.

Lester had arrived moments later, still unshaven, but at least looking like he’d had a decent night’s sleep for once. He’d told Cutter in no uncertain terms that he had neither the resources nor the inclination to keep a guard on yet another anomaly, and it was going to be closed within the next two hours whether Cutter liked it or not.

And that was what was happening right now.

* * * * *

Lyle backed out of the mine entrance, unwinding wire from a cable drum, followed closely by Ditzy. Lester handed over a metal box with a single switch set into a panel on the front and Lyle proceeded to connect the wire up to the small exploder. Cutter watched them, his whole body radiating disapproval.

Stephen Hart leant against an outcrop of rock, avoiding eye contact with the irate Scotsman. He took the view that the dangers posed by the anomaly far outweighed any possible gain from keeping it open.

The lieutenant checked the connection a final time then handed the exploder to Ryan. “I know how much you love mines, mate.”

Ryan’s eyes flickered over to Lester, who gave a tight nod

The captain flicked the switch. Four hundred metres of adit muffled the noise of the explosion down to a dull thwump, but it was followed almost immediately by the louder and even more satisfying rumble of collapsing rock.

Cutter turned away and headed off towards the track without a word. Lester watched him go, an expression of mild exasperation on his face.

Lyle pulled at the bang wire, reeling as much as he could back out of the adit, then he stowed the reel and the exploder back in his pack. “Need to keep an eye on it for the next couple of hours while the fumes clear. The guys should be here with the grill by then.”

Ryan nodded. “I’ll stay. Tell Vicky I’ll be back to watch her take the pony over the jumps this afternoon.”

He watched as Lyle and Lester made their way down through the wood. They were an odd pair, there was no getting away from that, but the relationship seemed to be working. He’d seen more of Lester over the last ten days than he had over the rest of the Anomaly Project put together and grudging admiration had started to give way to genuine liking.

Stephen pushed himself off the rock with sinuous grace and sauntered across the small stream that issued out of the adit. “How come you volunteered for guard duty?”

“If we stay here, we haven’t got to help hump the arc-welder and the genny up the track.”

“Canny bugger.” Stephen ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lower lip and looked at Ryan expectantly. “Any chance of anything else getting humped in the meantime?”

Ryan stuck his hand into the pocket of his black combat jacket and brought it out empty. “You’re out of luck. Don’t carry oil in this jacket.”

“Since when has that ever put me off, darling?”

Ryan propped the rifle up against a rock and lent back against the ivy covered tree, legs spread slightly in mute invitation as his cock started to harden.

If truth be told, even though the rest of the house had probably been expecting them to fuck like bunnies the previous night, they’d actually done nothing more than have a long overdue kiss and a cuddle. Ryan had been inhibited by the thought of his ex-wife and daughter in such close proximity, and they’d both been distracted by concern for Blade.

They’d been dozing in each others arms at 4 am when Ditzy had banged softly on the door and announced that the young soldier was now in the recovery room of Kendal General Hospital after a two hour op to clean his wounds and stitch his leg back together. The prognosis was said to be good.

After that, they’d managed a quick mutual hand job by way of celebration and then had snuggled back down for a much needed sleep, but now Ryan was feeling randy.

He ran his hands through his lover’s hair, ruffling it into the sort of disarray normally seen only in the bedroom or in the middle of a serious creature incursion. Hart’s dark eyelashes fluttered appealingly and his eager fingers tugged at the zip on Ryan’s trousers.

God, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the sight of Stephen Hart on his knees sucking his cock. He bit back a groan and tried hard not to succumb to the urge just to twine his fingers into short black hair and fuck that oh so receptive mouth.

A skilful tongue played round the head of his cock, alternating sucking with licking, teeth grazing him just the way he liked.

Stephen drew back for a moment and looked up, pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared almost black. “Decisions, decisions,” he muttered, nuzzling his face into Ryan’s groin.

“Hmmm?”

“Do I want to suck you off or just bend over that rock while you shag me silly? Helluva choice.”

“I’ve been celibate for two fucking weeks, sweetie. I can come down your throat and still get it back up again in the time it’ll take me to carry you over to that rock and strip your arse bare.”

Hart’s eyebrows twitched speculatively, and in reply he sucked hard on Ryan’s cock.

Ryan watched his lover swallow around him and he started to thrust. Hands grabbed at his hips, forcing his arse back against the tree. Long fingers dug hard into his thighs and butt, kneading and massaging, stimulating the blood flow into that area to force a more intense orgasm through him. It was a good trick, and it was invariably successful. Ryan’s hands ran through his lover’s hair, stroking the hollow of his cheeks as Hart sucked and licked, alternating the movements of his mouth with hard fast hand strokes.

Christ, Stephen Hart was obscenely good at this, and right now Ryan didn’t give a monkey’s damn if anyone on the path through the valley could hear the stream of words that were tumbling out of his mouth as he chased an illusive climax currently being held back by the grip of hard fingers round the base of his cock.

He wanted to come, needed to come, and still the little sod was holding him back. His hands slipped through midnight black hair, down sculpted cheekbones and gripped strong shoulders. Ryan knew full well that he’d started to beg, and oh dear god, when he got the chance he was going to shag Hart so hard he wouldn’t sit down for a week without wincing.

One of Hart’s hands pushed his hips back against the tree, the other still gripped the base of his cock. Ryan’s breath was coming in short pants now and the fire in his guts burned hot and intense. He jerked forwards, breaking his lover’s hold and forcing himself even further down his throat, and still Hart took it. Then he was swallowing around Ryan’s cock, digging his fingers into his arse so hard that pain mixed with pleasure as Ryan thrust again and finally hit his peak, coming in a stream of broken words and inarticulate endearments.

* * * * *

Stephen rocked back on his heels, savouring the bitter taste, running his tongue round his swollen lips and using his finger to catch a few stray drops that had escaped the corner of his mouth.

The only question now was whether Ryan would be good for his half of the bargain.

He grabbed the soldier’s belt and pulled himself upright, nuzzling Ryan’s neck, licking and biting his way up to the other man’s mouth, sucking on his lower lip, then kissing him with open-mouthed abandon, sharing the salt taste and rubbing his own straining erection against Ryan’s hip bone. God, he needed this.

The kiss was hard and dirty. Tongues challenged and fought, while hands roamed, fumbling with inconvenient layers of clothing, then Stephen found himself being hoisted up and carried backwards across the stream, with casual ease. Ryan flipped him round onto his stomach on a large moss covered rock and two large hands unfastened his belt and dragged his trousers and underwear down around his knees.

“Makes a bloody change for you to be wearing pants,” Ryan muttered, pulling him away from the rock by a fraction and allowing Stephen to nestle his hard cock comfortably against the damp moss which blanketed the rock.

“What do you think I am?” Stephen asked, conscious of the fact that attempting to hump an over-sized example of the local geology would do absolutely nothing for his image.

Ryan’s fingers landed on his arse in an open-handed slap. “An inconsiderate little bastard who had me worried sick for ten fucking days and nights.”

“Not fair!” A second slap drove his aching cock hard against the rock and sent a jolt of pleasure right up his spine. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, late and stinking of booze.” 

A third slap landed. Stephen sucked in his breath and whined. God, it felt good. He tried writhing, but Ryan had him firmly pinned.

“It was only one can of beer… honest, babe, and it was their fault, they kept me out late… I wanted to get back. I did… really…”

A finger jabbed into his arse without warning, then retreated and the large hand delivered another stinging slap. Stephen wasn’t sure which of the two burning sensations felt better. He gave up trying to writhe and simply lay there, draped over the rock, jeans round his knees, hands clutching at a mix of ivy and moss, as he panted and moaned.

And begged.

Begged Ryan to hit him and fuck him and to make it hurt.

On this occasion, his lover displayed none of his customary reticence when it came to causing pain. The next slap across Stephen’s arse was hard enough to make him yelp for real, then he felt Ryan slide to his knees, licking and biting at him, pulling his arse cheeks apart, driving his tongue into him without warning.

And even though he was nowhere near slick enough or prepared enough, he carried on begging to be fucked, shoving his arse into Ryan’s face, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the rock. Then Ryan’s cock was pushing at him, demanding entrance, and he was pushing back and it hurt and at the same time it felt so fucking good that he didn’t care how much it hurt. Ryan was thrusting into him with a force that drove the breath out of his lungs and he was stretching and it hurt and he wanted more. The wet moss slid round his cock and he fucked the rock at the same time as he begged Ryan to shag him harder and faster.

Ryan obliged. The change in angle as he hoisted Stephen slightly higher made the next stroke slide across his prostate and set off sparks behind his eyes igniting pleasure inside him as effectively as Lyle’s exploder had brought the roof of the mine down. He felt like he was being split apart and the heat from the slaps Ryan had landed on his arse mingled with the burn from Ryan’s cock, and then he was coming, panting his lover’s name into the leaves and the moss and the ivy, with the warm smell of earth and autumn filling his nose.

But Ryan had not long come and he wasn’t finished yet.

Stephen felt strong hands running up underneath his shirt, blunt fingers massaged at his shoulders, then pulled him away from the rock far enough to reach round and claw at his chest, seeking out his nipples and pinching them hard driving spikes of painpleasurepain into his unresisting and still spasming body.

Then one short hard shove drove him forward again and he knew Ryan was coming. His lover’s breath was warm on his neck and he could feel the insistent thud of Ryan heart beating against his back..

Ryan slid bonelessly down onto the damp earth, trailing a line of hot kisses down Stephen’s back, fingers opening him again to the ministrations of a now gentle tongue.

“Love you,” Stephen breathed, his mouth in intimate contact with part of a Cumbrian hillside.

He felt himself being turned round, and deposited to lie face up, his back arched over the rock.

“Say that again, Hart.”

Stephen opened his eyes and met Ryan’s intent gaze. For once, he felt no inclination to dissemble. “I love you. And I tried to get Blade to head home before the anomaly closed and tell you that from me, but the bugger chickened out and told me to tell you myself.”

Ryan’s lips brushed his. “Love you too, darling, but if you leave me like that again, you won’t bloody well sit down for a month, let alone a sodding week.”

Stephen flickered his tongue out to meet Ryan’s. “Promises, promises.”

A gentle kiss landed on his nose, about half a second before they both heard the piercing whistle that heralded Lyle’s return, somewhat earlier than expected.

Stephen wondered idly if his legs still worked before deciding that, quite frankly, he didn’t really care.


End file.
